"With Time To Kill" written by K.Rooste
It was just another of those dull Saturday afternoons, and Ken time to kill. He thought of doing some shopping downtown, not that he really had a need for anything, but it was something to do. It was his luck to come upon a small shop tucked into a back alley.
The store suggested of something suspicious or different, and the thrill of a mystery outweighed his dull idea of wandering the bigger stores looking for nothing.
A cautious look down into the alley seemed appropriate, dimly lit and looking rather eerie, it was a likely place to meet with some knife-wielding gangs. Yet, it had tweaked his interest, and Ken had a need for doing something other than near nothing.
Ken vowed of an excellent imagination, sometimes working it overtime, but always loving a mystery. As he strolled cautiously down into the dark alley his mind was working, thinking how this small shop might hold some great wonders.
"Thule's Ultimate Shop"
A shingle sign boasted, it hung, swaying easily in the slight breeze coming along the alley.
Ken peered in through the door glass window, behind which was a dark and dimly lighted curio shop.
A deep breath and ken pushed open the door to this the shop, stopping halfway through the doorway, as a rank smell tickled his nose. He stood with a foreboding disgust at the foul smell that wrinkled nose, as a multitude of weird scents prevailed from within that shop.
Seemingly, from out of thin air appeared this creepy old man, he standing hunched over, and walking with a cane, it reminded Ken of the Star Wars character named Yoda.
As the elderly man waddled closer to Ken, his nametag came under a spot of light, “Doctor Thule."
Ken felt a little anxious, about ready to ask him why he was running such a dark and mysterious looking curio shop; when the old man spoke rather loudly saying, "One dollar gets you a cheap thrill, two dollars offers a sensual feeling, but five dollars or more can give you the thrill of a lifetime fantasy!”
Ken was a bit puzzled for a moment until he rationalized what the old man sold in his shop.
"So, you run a magic shop, offering people ticks or your trade, and making such wild fantasy nearly come to life; that sounds really neat!” Ken said, he letting his eyes to wander, looking for that one thing which he might imagine would be in a store dealing with magic.
The old man saw the flash of a fantasy rush across Ken’s young and youthful mind. He smiled then, giving a wave of his hand, as if suggesting his customer look about the shop.
“Much is here, and some is very inexpensive, some even free, but it is the things that are free which come can some strings attached! Oh well, you being so young, you are most likely either quite poor or dead broke! If this be the case then the free things might be a path to discovering that one fantasy you have dreamed of for so many years.” The old man’s words seemed as suggestive to Ken, as were what he had wild hopes of finding.
Doctor Thule walked away, but stopped just short of a large computer array, plopping down at the desk, he began to type away, seemingly ignoring Ken.
Ken eyed the strangely oversized console of computer gadgets, seeing near it a large glass cubical, and on a cardboard sign set above the door leading into it, read, “Transformer 2000."
"Interesting contraption, just what does this thing do, how does it work," asked Ken, his eyes lighting up at the word transformer?
"Well, step inside, stand on the metal plate and we shall see what you think of my invention!” The doctor said, he having an evil grin, motioning, as if offering for Ken to step inside the cubical.
Ken stood anxious and somewhat nervous for a moment of indecision, before accepting the offer and stepping into the glass cube.
It was far from something being air tight, as the door closed behind ken, it rolled on slides into place. Ken could see inch wide seams between the cubical walls and the door. He stood patiently and watched as the old man with the title of a doctor pressed several buttons on the computer console.
A few quick strobes of bright light and coming onto a television screen set where both the doctor and Ken could see it, the picture memory from a time when Ken visited the Nature Center, and stood staring with longing desire at a donkey Jack enjoying its maleness.
“One hundred dollars buys you a full year of donkey thrills; or if this is too much money I have a contract here where my friend could offer you with a lifetime of Donkey fun,” announced the ole man, he having then an evil looking grin.
Ken pulled from his wallet the sum of nine dollars in cash, giving his shoulders a shrug, but wishing he had the hundred dollars.
The door to the cubical rolled open and the ole man reached inside, offering to Ken a long legal contract, written by some quill pen, and not typed as one might think would be proper.
Squinting to read what the man thrust before his face, Ken began to smile. “You want my immortal soul in trade for me choosing to become some property of… who?” Ken saying his thoughts of disbelief to the old man, as the both of them stood smiling at the other.
Smiling, and being anxious for finding his delighted fantasy, Ken took an ink pen from his shirt pocket and signed the silly looking piece of paper.
The old man’s face began to beam with a broad smile. His arm retracted, taking back the contract signed then by Ken.
Ken stood in awe as the cubical door rolled again forward and closed, this time though it slid across the opening much tighter, sealing Ken inside an air tight space.
Before Ken could even protest his internment in the cubical, he saw the doctor press on key on the top of his computer keyboard.
A searing bright light dazzled down over Ken, causing his clothing to warm and him to begin sweating terribly.
“Young friend, I would dearly suggest you should remove all your clothing!” The old man announced to Ken, motioning in a way to suggest Ken do it in some hurry.
Due to the bright light, the heat inside the glass cube was becoming unceasingly hotter. Ken began to peel off his shirt and then pants, leaving him standing with some amount of privacy remaining.
“Shoes, socks, and of course your underwear, you will not be needing them anymore!” The old man then spoke with some authority, as if ordering Ken; he stood motioning as if urging him to do what he said with some haste.
In a cubical about four feet square and likely eight feet tall, there was not a lot of room to move in any direction. Ken stood then baking under the bright light, his body bursting of sweat, and feeling anxious and nervous for what he had gotten into all by himself.
A hissing sound suggested some sort of gaseous substance was then pumping inside the cubical.
“What’s, is that a gas I hear?” Ken asked his question as a moment later he felt woozy, knees buckling, and almost ready to pass out.
Slumping to the floor of the cubical, Ken squinting his eyes, tried to speak, and pointing with a limp hand at his legs, the skin on them was changing color.
Weakly Ken moved to kneel and paw at the glass door, pleading to let out of an embarrassing situation.
He looked upward hearing another, higher pressurized gas then spraying into the glass cubical.
Gasping for his every breath, Ken pawed slowly at the glass door, choking on the stench that filled his small space. He was near to blacking out when the gas stopped.
He peered outside of the cubical, seeing the old man greeting another person with a warm and friendly handshake. The other person stepped close to the glass, she peering in at Ken squinting to see her.
She turned then and Ken could hear her say something in agreement, but insisting that when it was finished, she wanted Ken to know and remember everything he had learned.
The old man returned to his computer desk and began typing out some code to the machine that worked the cubical.
A chilly burst of air quelled the horrid heat inside the cubical. Ken felt suddenly a shiver from the cold air. He relaxed some, his mental state rejuvenating some, as he slowly tried to stand.
His body felt terribly weak, Ken reached a hand to rub his then sore leg muscles, stopping after two strokes, to study the odd sensation his hands reported to a dull thinking mind.
Ken took a horrified note of how his skin had changed, turning nearly a deep charcoal color of black; but what was worse his legs were coated over with a thickening growth of hair.
Suddenly the gas hissing returned but with it came a dousing of raining down chemical that had a sting to it, when it touched Ken’s changed skin.
Adrenalin surged in Ken, he with weak and strange feeling in his legs, climbed up the glass wall of the cubical. Screaming in a raspy sounding voice Ken tried to call to the old man, pleading to let out of the cubical.
The old man got up from his seat, walked to the glass cubical, holding up the signed contract, and stood with a grin shaking his head back and forth as if to say then, NO!
“You signed the contract, I just sold you to the customer, and soon, very soon, you will be on your merry way to a life of fantasy and thrills.” Then little ole man did announce to Ken, his words being as cutting as a knife from some gang member out in that dark alley.
Chemical droplets were coating the glass, impairing all outside of the cubical so Ken felt alone and could not see nary a thing.
The growth of a furry coarse feeling brown hair was spreading, and Ken knew it would soon cover him from head to toes.
Then the spraying stopped, but the hissing gas then had a gray coloring to it, fogging the glass cubical, making every breath that Ken took to have him realize his humanity was in jeopardy.
Again the blazing hot light returned, causing the air to warm, and Ken to then fall on his back and lay there feeling very faint.
He thought of his parents, they would worry over him disappearing. Ken wondered how the monitor had shown a view of how and what he was looking at when visiting the Nature Center. He lay there having some nausea in his guts, but from his groin, he felt a stirring sensation of some wicked delight.
With eyes closed, Ken waited fro what was to come. He began to daydream, his mind returning to the scene of that male donkey enjoying thoroughly his erection and then before all there, he began to masturbate. The very thought of remembering that wondrous moment had Ken feeling himself becoming erect, thrilled, and wishing to himself that he and that donkey could be as brothers.
Time passed Ken by, leaving him in the throws of physical change. He lay rolling back and forth on his very furry back, making odd sounds, guttural groans, and an occasional bestial exclamation.
Among his other discomforts, he felt his teeth push up out of their sockets, falling loose in his mouth; he would spit them out feeling some weird sense of glee.
Anxiety drained away, leaving Ken in a wonderful mindset of euphoria, moaning, and jerking his maleness as if produced spewing juices and splatters on the glass walls.
The cubical floor seemed to be getting smaller, as if becoming more confining to Ken. He tried without much success to stand several times, His arms having difficulty with normal movements, as did his legs feel bunched and feet oddly longer and terribly uncoordinated on the slippery floor.
Even with his ongoing fantasy daydreaming thoughts, Ken listened ever better to what the old man said, he speaking to some other customer, they both laughing when the conversation made mention of the cubical and of who was inside.
“You wanted an adventure, something to give you a thrill, well my young friend your delights are soon to be realized!” The old man stood close to the glass door of that cubical, he chiding Ken, and scoffing at one so foolish, as to sign a contract without giving it a reading.
In that short moment Ken had the inkling to consider what was happening, although his mind seemed full of cotton, he was more than a little upset over his situation. He thought, considering what the old man had said, of selling Ken to that Lady customer. He craned his head to look at how the dark brown furry hair had covered his entire body. The strange sensations that continually flooded his clouded thinking mind, all suggested his past feeling were not even a close match to what he felt at that very moment.
Ken strained to watch what the old man was doing, tilting his head, trying his best to train his vision, but finding it easier to concentrate just with one eye open.
Anxieties came in waves of concern over what his family and friends would think. He as might they all wondering together if Ken was sold and placed into slavery, he would wish they never would know!
The cramped space of the cubical was also taking its toll on Ken and his anxiety. He would give a short but hard kick at the clear plastic transparency. As if a reaction from the kick, the bridge of his nose and forehead would become then smashed into the opposite wall of clear plastic.
This all added injury to his constant insult from being imprisoned, and trapped inside an ever smaller cubical.
He listened to the old man talking to someone on the telephone. The conversation was about Ken, and with his increased ability to hear; he eavesdropped.
“Yes, yes he is nearly ready, please do send the truck and park in the front alley. No, no worry about what the neighbors might think, I have none close and only two have windows that look into the alley, and these work during this time of the day.
Upset, vicious, no, no, no, I sedate them with some Nitrous Oxide, laughing gas is the colloquial term; all during the first, second and final phases before they are released from the chamber.
Yes, oh no, no concern needed he is a virile male, thoroughly able to tend to his duties. Yes, I check before committing him to it; I scanned his memory, finding a recent scene that he became enthused and it caused him some excitement. It was from that I based his final determination of species, gender, and proposed purpose.
I do believe he will act accordingly to his preferred status. He seemed to find enjoyment watching a male donkey become erect and then toy with itself before all onlookers at our local Nature Center. The witnessing of his reaction was to me a profound reason for making him as he is now.
Now, yes, he is totally transformer, his life entity is stable, I have the readouts to prove my claim, this young male is quite an exception, and completely willing, jack donkey.” Ken tilted his head with great wonder, having heard the part of the conversation and a statement; to this, he stood and asked himself, was he really a donkey?
A metallic clicking sounded as the door to the plastic cubical slid open. This then granted Ken the offering to his idea of running from this crazy man, and captor.
Strong hind like legs of a young donkey spurred Ken from within the cubical.
His head nearly forced straight and level with his withers, Ken tried his best to make a dash for the shop door. His best try was, and tried by many a few times before, those being others who were tempted into living their fantasy by the brilliant Doctor Thule.
The tip of Ken’s broad nose felt the slipping of something over and encircling it. The feeling quickly tightened, grasping Ken by the head, swinging and turning him to stop and face his mentor.
“Not so fast, young one, you could not escape so easily, I have experience with those more endeared to wanting their past existence, than are you. Look at me; I am not a monster, just a poor but kindly scientist trying to learn a modest living.
If you had just a hundred buck you could have enjoyed a year of wild fantasy and I would have returned you to your human past. Instead, you had too little money, but were willing to sign away your soul. Ha, your soul, dare say some think of me as if a devil, but it is the furthest thing from the truth.
Remember, you signed my hand written contract! It was not to collect your soul directly, maybe cause some soul searching, but come the next few weeks; I imagine your idea about what you are, shall merge with the wild and sensual way you will learn to live.
Yes my young friend, I did transform you into the form of a mature two-year-old male stallion donkey! After all, you found such delight in watch Chuck get it one with his mighty shaft.” The old doctor so informed Ken, telling and correcting some misgivings.
Ken cocked his head as he listened, showing a questioning posture as only an equine can!
“Chuck, oh you know the donkey as the…that you watched...licking your lips with seductive desire…Chuck! Chuck is or was like you are today, a volunteer transformer’, and he too signed the volunteer’s contract. That soul searching contract, that gave me all the rights to you beginning with, during and then after the experiment is concluded; but like Chuck, you’re a lifetime volunteer in a long term experiment.” The doctor did explain, his expression showing a pleased look at a creation that stood out among the crowd.
Ken took an excited deep breath making a long drawn out Hee…The exhaling out over his changed vocal cords, screaming then his braying…Haw. Instantly his mind grasp at the truth, realizing the sensations he was felling came from a body and form of one aroused male donkey.
Donkeys are, as donkeys will do, the excitement and sensation afforded Ken a massive male erection; one that Enzite would want to patent, if they could!
Ken closed his eyes, remembering of Chuck and his sensual ride. He worked his shaft the same as he had seen that other donkey. It rose up, striking and bouncing off his furry belly. Then letting the muscle slack off its pressuring, the shaft swung hard toward the ground again. This continued until from the mighty shaft of a donkey stud with the name of Ken; he exploded a load of juices and semen, some still of the human, and much, much more like that of a donkey stallion.
The old man was not angry with Ken making his first of many such messes. He laughed, and informed his changed volunteer that with the next several such purging acts, his testicles and human testerone would be deplete; until the last vestiges of his ever again being human again would bless the stable floor.
Ken had a short-lived feeling of helpless dissatisfaction from becoming a donkey. It was a short-lived, as the door to the shop opened and a man dressed as some farm wrangler stepped inside the shop. He took a firm grasp of the reins clipped to a halter the old man had so quickly thrown of the head of a donkey desiring to make his escape.
Braying his human thoughts threw a mouth and voice made for a donkey, Ken tried to tell the wrangler, as of his name, and just what had happened to leave him an animal, and then to become someone’s property.
The stiff tug at the reins, and that halter became a better reminder than his own bodily sensation, giving Ken a vivid view of his new way of life.
Realizing the futility of his situation, he was unable to talk and communicate any better than a common born donkey; he was of a mind to let go of his humanity.
The sound of plodding donkey hooves over the oak parquet floor of the shop suggested to Ken a rhythm of his new life. If he were giving in to the fact his human body was to be forever that then of a male donkey; he had but to think and reflect upon the many times his male organ danced to a thrill and delight.
Arriving at what to Ken seemed some horse ranch, he stood inside the stock truck and peering between the slats counted a fair number of horses and a field with twenty plus donkeys.
The breeze wafted to him the scents of animals, an ability he never had when human, to him all animal stank; but right then, some had a wonderful, rather heady scent. The scents and odors seemed to offer him an invigorated sense; he felt a rush of thrill, noting shortly after a few deep breaths that he had a stout erection standing out at full ready.
His unloading came on quickly as oddly even to Ken he had lost his horror and apprehension over becoming a donkey, and began to look forward to finding friends and some relations with those of his kind.
A man led Ken to one corral with some horses and ponies standing all in a small bunch.
Ken happily pranced inside the corral, stepping close to one tall white stallion, only to discover the small herd thought of him as one invading their private club.
Biting teeth and kicking hoofs were his greeting from the animals in that corral.
Ken squealed with terror, fearing for his life and body, he turned and ran in a large circle, as snapping teeth reached to bite and maybe kill the imposter.
An hour of the rough treatment brought the man again out and stood near the gate, he directly asked Ken, using his name, wondering if he would prefer a stall in the barn.
Once that gate opened, Ken bolted of some freedom and hope.
All sweaty and some small cuts where angered teeth bit into his hairy hide, a shaking and fearful Ken the donkey stood in as much begging the man for help.
“Its good for you to learn quickly and from now on you are as an animal, an equal to those brute beasts, unlike you, they being born into the world as animals, they act and are beasts. You though are as many of the donkeys in the pasture there, most being female, and the remained as gelded males that were poor looking specimens. You though are much different, and a better strain of equine conception by ole Thule. He has somehow made some betterment in the process, and from this, comes a new and hardy male animal, one worthy to be my farm stud.
I shall stable you for the remained of today, tending to your wounds, and come tomorrow you can meet your respective herd.” The man announced to Ken, giving him some sense of hope, and from that wafting breeze, he had a wondrous number of passionate thoughts.
Ken forgot much of his human life and thought nothing more of family, but turned his total interest on becoming as if the dominate male donkey for his herd.
Instinct helped a lot with his lack of knowledge concerning the mating rituals and subsequent breeding manners. Ken impregnated four jennets properly during his first week at the ranch. This he took an odd sense of pride, prancing about, shaking his head, and snorting loudly.
The ranch owner acted around Ken as if he were his own son rather than some stud animal used for its breeding ability. He would take Ken at night from the pasture, bedding the stud down in a clean stall, caring for him as if he were still some sort of athlete.
Ken was an athlete of sorts, his physical self was strong and as he matured quickly so did his maleness. He became proud of his mighty shaft, the ranch owner exclaiming to Ken how it had grown, lengthening, and was as if that of some larger breed of donkey.
His first full year as a stud donkey won him fame and the honor of breeding jennets and mares brought from other farms, all for him to envelope in his strange cherishing and loving ways.
Time and the passing of it was a lost care, as Ken found his every waking day a new and wondrous experience.
Thrilled for being as the animal he stood proud and openly displayed his exceptional ability. Ken was entering his third year as a stud breeder animal when as he stood in his corral munching on some hay, a vehicle drove into the main yard, and a large man jumped out. He stood looking around, and then spotting Ken, he walked directly to the large donkey.
Standing just a few feet apart, Ken offered the man his warmest greeting, bursting out a ragged bray.
The loud sound of Ken and his braying ability mostly pushed humans back with some sense of fear. Yet this one man stood his ground, eyeing Ken well, as if he were some auctioneer or maybe a buyer.
The slamming of a door alerted both the man and Ken of the ranch owner coming from his abode. He had in one hand a rifle, Ken knew of this, as the man used it often.
Ken took a couple of wary steps back and waited then for what might happen, well able to make any evasive moves.
The man confronted the ranch owner, as Ken watched, his tall ears listening closely and he fully understanding yet the English language.
They argued, the one man demanding Ken be released to him, as the ranch owner pointed his gun and was ready to shot to protect his wellbeing.
The one big man turned and ignored the gun; he walked up to the corral fence, standing for a moment as he eyed the large male donkey. Then drawing a deep breath he said, “Ken, Ken can you remember me, it is dad!”
Ken had to think for a few moments, straining hard through all that had happened and of what he then found as his pride and joy. When he did have a fait remembrance of is faded humanity, the rich feeling he held for his father and a great loving dad burst through the bestial fog.
Braying in excitement, Ken knew his father, and began to run and prance with learned attitudes of being a proud donkey.
His thrill became as if some abhorred act when as he pranced around his corral he became flaccidly erect, his soft shaft flopping from side to side, slapping at his moving flanks; making a happy father frown.
“Ain’t much left is there,” said Dad as he had to watch what was remaining of his one son, Ken prancing about flagging his shaft and having little thought of humility or morals.
“Why should there be, he has spent two years as a stud breeder,” spoke the ranch owner, as Ken slowed his excitement, prancing to a stop and tilting both ears toward the two men as they talked.
“Yea, I know of that but after the Police interrogated Thule, he finally broke down and offered up a ledger, it had many names, species, and the price they fetched into his pockets. His attorney served a writ of heinous corpus, and spirited the ole man away to somewhere else. His store remains as a witness to one man causing great harm to a community.” Spoke Dad, he maybe informing the ranch owner of something he had not had the time to learn. It seemed as if hearing the news of the scientist meeting his justice came as some shock.
“Gone, he left without saying a word, and I suppose the Police will be coming after me soon too! Well their gon’a have a tough time turning up a clue. Thule helped me get papers registered on each and every one of those he used his machine or chemicals; making some join the circus and sideshows, as better specimens came here to my ranch.
As Ken standing in the corral and of those in that pasture, David, Sandy, Lisa, Francine, Beth, Tina, Abby, and several more, they are jennet donkeys. I also have Benjamin and his two friends, Jared and John, the three of them are now bulls, one a Charolais, and the other two are of the Black Angus breed.
They are happy as being what Thule made them, content and well cared for by two workers and me.
Even if Thule were here now I suspected that he never comprised an antidote, or even planned that those he experimented upon would ever return to point an accusing finger, ha, yea I bet none could, as they either had fins, paws or hoofs, finger, you get it!” The ranch owner laughed at his little bit of humor, while dear ole Dad looked at what was there in the corral, wondering if he still wished to admit that this was once his son.
Dad turned to the ranch owner asking, “Does he truly understand, is his mind still able to think and reason; or is he knowing me because I have a favorable scent?”
Ken hearing his father wavier about if he was his real son made him let loose a few ragged sounding and panic brays.
Turning to face Ken and reaching a fatherly hand to cup and give a loving scratch to one bristly blackened chin, Dad asked of his son, “If you can understand me son, then listen and remember now. I received a call from the Police after your mother and I signed the papers, listing you as missing.
The Police soon discovered your grandfather’s railroad pocket watch in a pawnshop, and from there they traced it back to Thule. He took your money and used all the credit on our Visa card, selling off your personal information, social security number and then pawned anything more of value.
Since he has fled into hiding I have not real way of returning you to what you were as my son, do you understand me?”
Ken gave a nod to signify an answer of yes, braying in a soft manner in as much trying to show his understanding and concern.
The message his father was confiding to Ken made him nervous, and from this he forgot where he was and before whom he stood, dribbling a trail of urine to make a fair size puddle.
Dad saw what was happening, turned round, facing the ranch owner, and was give a shrug and sigh.
“Like I said mister, he has spent the last two years being a free spirit, living as an animal, with animals like himself, what might one expect then, morality, humility, and some concern of human social morays?” Said the ranch owner in reply, he smiling slightly, a “shit grin,” is as it is termed by some.
Dad tried to ignore the bestial response to his conversing with Ken, turning to face his donkey son again, he said, “I will not inform your mother of you living in this degraded manner, she would go crazy or think I should maybe kill you for being as this brute thing. Therefore my son I put it to you, expecting about what your answer will be, and knowing fro your actions just how much you have become as an animal; I ask this, would you rather stay here, be what you are, a stud donkey, or come away and let me stable you nearer to your family?”
“What, he leaves here, no, no way, he is mine and I have signed papers to prove he is nothing more than one well bred Andalusian donkey stud! You can not have him, and I will fight tooth and nail to keep him here doing what he does.” The ranch owner burst forth with a verbal line showing his rage at losing Ken or even later the others.
Before the two men could come to blows and might fight for the right of Ken to chose, he then made his choice.
Braying and kick up his heels into the air he quickly turned the attention of both men to the riled donkey.
Shaking his head to signify the answer of no, Ken calmed himself and as well the two men, they looking to the donkey to make the final decision.
As both men stepped close to the corral fence, their donkey stepped close too. Ken reached his head forward and lip nibbled the palm of his father, then moving slightly right, he did the say to his owner. A snuffling and friend lick of the owner’s hand was to Ken his only way to show both men just who and of where he would wish to stay.
Dad drew his hand back and wiped the scent of donkey lips on his jacket coat. He looked to the owner, and was about to speak something when the other man spoke first.
“I do understand your concern for Ken and his welfare, but where he is here and now, can be no better place. I keep him clean and healthy, assuring when he mates, he has his shaft washed, and of those who are his mates that they too are in excellent health.
Stabling him anywhere else will not afford such excellent care. I promise you can come and visit him often if that is your wish. Ken has much of his schooled learning, and understands us well enough. The process by which he was changed allowed for a higher level of mental awareness, Ken being the best in the pasture.” Said the owner of Ken the donkey, he offered a hand to Dad in friendship, wishing to shake hands and bind the bargain.
The two men shook hands, and walked away from Ken, talking they headed toward the lane which traveled past the pasture, there the donkeys hear all the angered talking stood peering over the barbwire fence.
“So let me then try to understand for my own self, Ken is then your farm stud, he mates and breeds with these animals…but you mentioned of one named David…won’t he breed too…or was he gelded?” Dad asked his voice wavering as talking about his son being a farm stud was still a difficult concept.
“Ha, David was a fluke of Thule and his wine mixing with using that transforming machine. David there came like had Ken, looking for something and found himself soon a jennet female donkey. He is one very horny jennet too; although female in gender, she is not able to bear foals, but remains daily in a constant and heightened state of equine estrus,” said the ranch owner, he having informed Dad of his actual name, Lyle.
“Lyle, you mean his transformation has turned into a curse for David?” Dad asked, pointing to the sweating and shivering brown haired donkey standing nearest the fence.
“Ha, well maybe and maybe not, according to Thule he thought the young man was actual 
and that from his inebriated state he deemed it proper to give him what he might want most, a life of female sensuality, and lusting to enjoy it day and night for the rest of his life. David is all this and more, he wants for Ken to play with him, but offers his rump to any and all she can scent are of the male gender; Hell she even let Benjamin do her several times. No, David is quite tickled to remain just where and as what he has become, the social morays for him are a thing in his past, he lives and loves as if it was his only desire, and actually it is!” Lyle said, speaking and smiling, he pointed to shaky David, notating how nervous and full of wild passion the jennet stood and posed.
Meanwhile a lonely and likely horny Ken Stood wishing and wanting to be near his friends. ...
Show me the story at BeastForum.com or more information about K.Rooste
K.Rooste also wrote these stories:
Where I Am King / Tf Story
Safe & Secure
An Epic Of Lust
Buffalo Bill
Over Done
Pinned With Excitement
Just A Visit (tf Story)
The Graduating Class (transfromation Story)
“perfect Anonymity”
Last Time As A Man
An Epic Of Lust Part Ii
Actions & Beginnings (a Tf Story)
"if You Dare"
Ever Feel The Urge
All From A Blind Date
"memories"
The Curse Of Chastity
A Thing For Greed
"power Of Persuasion"
Early Damnation
Enjoying The Time Of His Life
A Business Trip To Hell
All In Good Time
My Final Story For B.f. "sensual Enough"
Just For A Visit
"just For A Visit" (for My Good Friends
Truely Permanent
Getting Prepared For Hell
With Time To Kill
Married Dreamer
Enhanced Security Helps
A Profound Experience
A Matter Of Appreciation
Red Neck
Feeling Cocky
Membership Of One
Screwball Prank
Secure And Safe
Goat Boy And Friends
What I Want For Christmas
A word from our sponsors...
Please help us keep this site free by visiting our bestiality sponsors below